Free Hart's Victory by Michele Dunaway Page B

was to be viewing the All-Star Challenge from Pit Road. Kellie closed her eyes for a moment, shutting out the western sun. In twenty-four hours, her life had tilted on its axis and she wasn’t quite sure if Hart Hampton was finished upending her world.
    She approached his motor home, noting that the letters spelled out the make of the RV across the front. Hart’s motor home was as long as a charter bus. A matching trailer was still attached, adding to the length. She and Charlie had seen a tour bus special on a country music video television station. Those buses had cost somewhere in the millions. She assumed Hart’s motor home had to be the same.

    A stool waited outside the door, which opened as if by magic, or rather, because Hart must have been waiting for her. He stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a different polo shirt and jeans than he’d had on earlier. She’d changed, as well, into a pair of knit sport pants and a short-sleeve sweater. She’d also showered and wore her hair long, straight down to her shoulders.

    “Come on in,” he said. Kellie reached for the support bar and climbed up. A movable wall divided the driver’s area from the rest of the motor home. “Welcome to my weekend home. What can I get you to drink? Unlike the dining hall, I’m privy to the location of some libations on this bus.”

    “A diet cola is fine,” Kellie said. Anything alcoholic might cloud her brain and weaken her resolve. As she followed him into what served as his living area, she couldn’t help but be impressed. So this was how the other half traveled.

    Hart’s motor home was phenomenal. Wood gleamed, and because of the home’s slide-out feature, his living area was quite spacious. A huge plasma screen TV was set into the wall section above the driver, and two other television screens were also popped out of their normal hiding places. All were tuned to the race.

    “That’s where I should be,” Hart said as he passed the couch and went into the tidy kitchen area. He pointed as a reporter stood in front of Hampton Racing’s pit. “There’s my car and Ricky’s going to drive it.”

    Kellie wasn’t sure what to say, so she simply stood there as the young pretty female interviewed a young driver standing outside of the Elementals Number 413 car.

    “So do you like my home?” Hart asked, changing the subject as he reached into a refrigerator and removed a soda can.

    “It’s nice,” Kellie said as Hart passed the diet soda over. Their fingers touched briefly. Kellie took the can and glanced around the room.

    Hart shook his head. “Again, you impress me by being so honest. Everyone else either gushes or fall all over themselves fawning over me. Personally, I think it’s a bit overdone. Go on. Have a seat,” Hart said as he retrieved a beer for himself. “Another one of my sponsors,” he said as he held up the microbrewery brand.

    “Beer and underwear,” Kellie remarked as she sat on the dark burgundy sofa. The room was done in dark, masculine colors, masterfully designed to coordinate while still feeling spacious. The room had windows, but they’d been covered with matching opaque shades.

    “Beer and underwear.” Hart shook his head as he removed the bottle cap. “You don’t have to say it, I know what you’re thinking. All I’d need to be complete would be to have a men’s magazine sponsor me and put some bunny ears on my car. You’re probably wondering, why couldn’t I be sponsored by one of those home improvement companies? Or at least something more respectable, like candy or office supplies. But no, my two top sponsors are booze and boxers.”

    “Actually, I wasn’t as concerned with that as much as I was hoping we could talk about next weekend. I’d like to see if there’s a way you and I could agree to cancel Charlie’s going.”

    “No,” Hart said, shaking his head. He took a seat in a huge, comfortable recliner just a few feet away and kicked his feet up onto the